


This Is Reality

by confused_carmine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Campaign: Graduation (The Adventure Zone), Eye Trauma, Gore, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confused_carmine/pseuds/confused_carmine
Summary: One moment, everything was fine—the firbolg was fighting alongside his friends like nothing was wrong—the next, he lost his head.
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg & Argo Keene, Master Firbolg & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	This Is Reality

**Author's Note:**

> TW: EXTREME VIOLENCE AND GORE

One moment, everything was fine—the firbolg was fighting alongside his friends like nothing was wrong—the next, he lost his head.

Not literally, of course, but his conscious was gone. He saw through his own eyes, but it was dreamlike. The firbolg's body was moving on its own, and that scared him.

What scared him more was when he looked to his side and saw Fitzroy, and noticed how small he was. He was beefy, of course, but the firbolg's large hands could easily wrap around the dip in Fitzroy's hips, and his fingers would touch. One of his hands could wrap easily around Fitzroy's neck and squeeze until the color drained from Fitzroy's face and the life was gone from his usually lively eyes.

The firbolg looked to his other side, seeing Argo. Argo was even thinner, his arms looked like they could snap like twigs. Argo's scales looked like they could be so easily ripped away from the blueish skin, picked away like scabs, maybe.

The firbolg looked back at Fitzroy, who was looking confusedly at him now. There was something different in the firbolg's eyes, Fitzroy noticed, that made Fitzroy's paranoia spike. "Uhm...Bud?"

The firbolg marched a step closer to the half-elf, causing Fitzroy to internally startle and move back a step. "Bud? Master Firbolg?" 

The firbolg walked closer and closer, Fitzroy backing away faster and faster before his arm was grabbed.

"What are you-" Fitzroy shut up when he felt his arm get pulled out of its place. Fitzroy's eyes were blown wide. His knees gave out and he let out a cry of pain.

Argo watched, looking surprised. What was the firbolg doing? What was happening? Why was this happening? 

Fitzroy gasped when the firbolg picked Fitzroy up. Fitzroy looked terrified. "What are you doing?! Stop!!" The firbolg launched Fitzroy like he was nothing, watching him fall to the ground and go limp momentarily.

The firbolg then looked to Argo, who was frozen in his place. Argo looked petrified, almost sickened. This wasn't like the firbolg, and why Fitzroy? Argo was all for putting pompous jackasses in their place—in fact, that was right up his wheelhouse—but not by putting their arm out of its place.

Argo felt even more sickened when he saw how Fitzroy's arm seemed almost disconnected from the rest of his body, dangling down like the arm of a ragdoll. When Fitzroy saw this, it was clear how he almost vomited.

Argo noticed that the firbolg was approaching him now. He wanted to run, but he couldn't just leave Fitzroy there.

Argo turned to run, but he didn't get far before he felt a large hand grab onto his ponytail and yank him back. The firbolg made Argo face him. He grabbed a scale that was on Argo's cheek and ripped it away from Argo's skin. It felt like ripping a sequin off an article of clothing, but a larger, thicker sequin.

Argo screamed a curse from the pain. He tried to push the firbolg away—to escape his hold or hit him or something—but the firbolg hugged Argo's body with one arm so that he didn't have much room to move.

One lost scale followed another, and another, until Argo's skin was covered in blood and he was squirming to get away.

The firbolg shoved Argo onto the ground, on his stomach. He put one of his large feet on Argo's back, grabbed Argo by the wrists, pulling his arms back until he heard snaps and cracks and pops, and even then he kept pulling.

Argo screamed, but it was hard. He couldn't breathe—his lungs were compressed beneath the firbolg's weight. Not only did he feel the muscles of his arms pulling loose from his body, but it felt as though his spine and bones were going to be crushed into shards. 

The lack of air made Argo's head pound with his heart, and his ears ring. He didn't even notice Fitzroy's rapid footsteps and groans of pain and anger. 

Fitzroy jumped and wrapped his arm around the firbolg's neck, trying to choke him and get him off of Argo. The firbolg growled and tried to shake Fitzroy off. Fitzroy held on tight, kicking the firbolg in the back to even try to get him on the ground.

Fitzroy was eventually swung off of the firbolg and onto the ground. Fitzroy panted, arms trembling. He saw Argo, saw him panting for his breath. That made a burning fear and anger build in Fitzroy's gut and chest. 

The firbolg approached Fitzroy with balled fists. He leaned down and grabbed Fitzroy by his hair, before slamming the sorcerer's face into the ground over and over and over again. Fitzroy's nose was bleeding now, and it made him feel sick. Fitzroy tried to sit up, but his face continued to slam into the ground, making his nose and head and teeth ache. When the firbolg finally quit, Fitzroy tried to get up with one trembling arm. Suddenly, he felt the firbolg grab his foot and twist his foot until his foot bent in an angle that was about inhuman. Fitzroy cried out, falling back onto the ground and panting. When Fitzroy saw how his foot was bending, he felt sick.

The firbolg kicked Fitzroy onto his back and put his foot on the villain's chest.

"Stop...please-" Fitzroy begged before the firbolg put his weight into his foot and felt Fitzroy's ribs struggle to hold his weight.

Fitzroy let out a cry when he felt a gross crack in his chest. Fitzroy's hands trembled, not only from the pain but from the unshakable fear.

The firbolg finally let up and removed his foot. Fitzroy flipped into his stomach and vomited. Fitzroy's eyes clouded with tears as food and stomach acid left his system.

Argo wanted to get up, but his whole body hurt. He looked and saw the firbolg. He prepared himself for pain when he felt the firbolg grab ahold of his ear.

Fitzroy heard Argo's shrieking over the ringing in his ears and his own vomiting. What he saw when he glanced over would have made him vomit if he hadn't already gotten everything out of his system.

The firbolg held Argo's ear in his hand, detached from Argo's body. The water genasi was holding over the now scarily bloody side of his head, trying (and mostly failing) not to scream from the pain.

The firbolg held Argo down onto the ground. The firbolg took ahold of Argo's trembling arm and tugged with all of his strength until he could feel the limb beginning to break away from Argo's body.

Argo's shriek's filled the firbolg's and Fitzroy's ears, and it was horrifying. Everything about this entire situation is terrifying. 

The sound of Argo's arm being torn from his body was horrifying, absolutely sickening. The sight was even worse—blood spurt from the nub where Argo's arm used to be, the firbolg was covered in Argo's blood, and Argo couldn't stop shrieking. 

Fitzroy sat up, scooting away using only one arm and one leg. "Dear Christ," he murmured, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

And then the firbolg turned to Fitzroy, and he wanted to run. Fitzroy wanted this to be an awful dream, and it wasn't.

This is reality.

The firbolg grabbed Fitzroy by the neck and lifted the knight up to eye-level so that Fitzroy's legs were dangling.

The firbolg grabbed ahold of Fitzroy's tooth—a canine—and  
ripped it from its settling place in Fitzroy's gums, causing him to cry out with pain. The firbolg continued this until tears rolled down Fitzroy's face from the pain.

The firbolg took Fitzroy's glasses off and tossed them onto the ground. He forced Fitzroy's eye open and began to try to dig his fingers around Fitzroy's eyeball.

Fitzroy felt sick. His head hurt, and his eye hurt worse. Fitzroy struggled in the firbolg's grasp, before his eye was ripped from his socket, and was in the hand of the firbolg.

If Fitzroy had been screaming, he hadn't noticed it. Tears rolled down his right cheek now, as blood rolled down the other.

The firbolg threw Fitzroy onto the ground again and put his foot on Fitzroy's head, ready to crush him. 

Fitzroy looked up at the firbolg with terrified golden whiskey eyes. The firbolg's face was the last thing he saw before his skull was crushed beneath the firbolg's foot.

Argo felt the firbolg's hand wrap around his neck. Something about being choked didn't seem so bad. Part of it was peaceful—he was lulled into unconsciousness, almost. This wasn't to say it didn't hurt—it hurt unbelievably bad—his lungs and throat felt like they were on fire, and his head built with pressure.

For final measure, the firbolg held Argo by his neck and knees and cracked the water genasi's spine over his knee. He bent until he heard the cracks and pops that he knew had to be Argo's back breaking.

It was when Argo's body fell limply to the ground that the firbolg's senses returned. His hands were covered in blood—the blood of his friends—and this was his doing.

The firbolg collapsed onto his knees, staring at the ground. He couldn't believe it, but deep inside he knew,

This is reality.


End file.
